


The Patchwork Prince

by Rainbow_Femme



Series: Captive Prince Happily Ever After [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat, Cinderella (1950), Cinderella (2015), Cinderella (Fairy Tale), Cinderella - All Media Types
Genre: Cinderella AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Femme/pseuds/Rainbow_Femme
Summary: When Laurent's father and brother were killed in a war fought to keep prince Damianos on the throne, leaving Laurent under the care of his conniving uncle, Laurent swore he would one day find a way to meet the prince and tell him exactly what he thought of him. A ball sounds like the perfect place, and with the whole kingdom invited he might just see that handsome stranger he's been meeting in the woods...





	The Patchwork Prince

Laurent had guessed what had happened when his uncle's gilded carriage had come up the long, winding road of their home that day instead of his father and brother on horse back. He had straightened his shoulders and resolved not to cry in front of the servants, all of whom were close to tears themselves to hear the news, not understanding that his uncle arriving at all was the news. He was 14, he would now be the heir apparent to the estate, but of course he could not take control for another four years. His father's brother would be put in charge of the estate until he came of age.

That was, of course, what everyone had believed. But Laurent had seen his uncle during his previous visits to their manor. Had seen the way his hands skimmed the marble, how his eyes danced over the gold finery of the drawing rooms, the jeweled pendants, the silver cutlery. His uncle had nothing so fine of his own and would, on Laurent reaching maturity, go back to his humbler estate befitting a second son of lesser means. Laurent knew, before anyone else did, even as bells tolled around the kingdom to announce the enemy's surrender, that the war he would face was just beginning.

It started slowly. His uncle, telling those living on and near their lands that his poor nephew was terribly grieved by his loss, so he would be taking over the duties of running the estate as Laurent recovered. Laurent, and the servants who knew him well, all spoke up that being around the people he would have to devote himself to caring for would help him more than being locked away inside the manor, but his uncle always shook his head sadly and gave an exasperated smile to the elders of the town who would nod in understanding at the folly of young ones who do not know what is best for them.

Then, when he was 15 and beyond his mourning period his uncle agreed he could begin taking back small tasks to get back into practice. He allowed Laurent to distribute grain and speak to the peasants living on their land about their grievances. His uncle, meanwhile, took to book keeping, tax collecting, conversing with the town elders, and all other things that would keep him in the sight of those he deemed important and influential to his cause. Laurent had not minded over much at first, he enjoyed riding across the vast lands he had known since birth, giving out rations to those who needed them, speaking with the families about what they needed, how their harvests were going, which of their children would soon be marrying and to whom. He may be invisible to the town elders but the people knew him.

It was when Laurent was 16 that his uncle, sitting in the drawing room with the many elders, judges, and lords of the land, that he confessed he did not feel comfortable giving Laurent control in a year and a half, considering how poorly prepared he was.

"The boy simply has not even begun training to run such an estate," he bemoaned as he sipped from a gilded wine glass. "He has not attended a single meeting of our councils, has not balanced a book, passed a law, or allocated tax revenues. I just don't think I could feel safe giving him such an inheritance when so many lives could be at risk should he fail, birthright or not."

The men had all nodded sagely, noting they had not seen the boy put any kind of interest in the maintaining of the vast lands he was meant to rule one day and they could not trust a boy to care for so much with so little training. And, of course, they could not trust a boy to uphold the interests they had which his uncle so well knew and took care of. Laurent, so busy wasting his time with the peasant rabble, just could not be trusted to be lead by his betters and coaxed in the right direction. So, with great public sadness from his uncle, a new document was signed keeping his uncle in charge of the land until a time came that he felt his nephew was fit to inherit.

And that was when the charade officially ended.

His uncle began "forgetting" to order knew clothes befitting a lord's son for Laurent, simply waving his hand and saying "I'm sure there is something lying around that will fit, we are not made of money. Think of where that money could be better served." He, of course, would be dressed in his newest wardrobe of fine silk and cotton, imported at great expense for his comfort in the great heat of the summer. Laurent learned how to sew from the mistress of the cloth in their home, who helped him take apart his old ill fitting clothes and turn them into something less fine but wearable. And when he grew taller still she showed him where they kept the scrap cloth and how to enlarge and patch anywhere that had become thin or torn or too short. The elders of the town began calling him The Patchwork Prince for the way he wore his mismatched rags with haughty dignity, refusing to let them forget that he was the heir and their superior, whatever the document said.

And, of course, his uncle soon felt that Laurent's rooms were that of a child and not befitting a lord's son. Of course, he himself had taken over his brother's rooms and converted Auguste's into a second study, but surely there was some place with room for a growing boy.

"The tower!" he had exclaimed after much faux pondering and stroking of his beard. "There is plenty of room up there for you. I'll have the servants move your things right away so there is no inconvenience to you."

Laurent had gone straight from his uncle to his rooms to find they were already emptied, no doubt his uncle giving the word that morning before he had brought up the subject with Laurent. Slowly, he had made his way up the spiral staircase to where his sparse clothes and books were being arranged around the drafty stone room. It was certainly large, a single circle with windows in every direction. It would be freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer, and there were no drapes to be closed against the sun so he would be rising at dawn every day whether he liked it or not.

And his uncle liked that. For, if Laurent was up anyway, he might as well make himself useful.

"We do not have as many servants as we need to run a proper household, but I do not want to relegate any more funds to hire more. I would help myself, but as you can see I spend all my time about the business of running the estate. Considering how much free time you have, I would appreciate it if you could find it in your heart to help on occasion."

And thus, Laurent's last refuge, hiding in a window seat with a book, was taken too. For if his uncle ever found him doing so he would find a servant in need of assistance and task him with bringing Laurent along on his chores. So Laurent learned to scrubs the floors, milk the cows, harvest the fruit and vegetables, and cook the meals. He was often too exhausted to attend any of the meetings his uncle had with the town elders, and their voices would carry after him as he dragged himself up the vast stone staircase.

"I know I always say we can hope he will join us one of these nights and talk about the needs of the kingdom, but he insists on sleeping as much as possible these days. I tell you gentlemen I just don't know what to do..."

And so time went on. Laurent turned 17, 18, 19, and 20. Those peasants he cared for often gave him scraps to make clothes for his birthday to show gratitude for his continued care towards them, the servants adopted him in as family, but Laurent could never forgive what had been done to him, to any of them. With more tax money going into the pockets of his uncle and the corrupt town elders, with more food going into his uncle's storage than redistributed to the people on their lands who needed it, Laurent could not forgive the loss of his birthright that would give him the power to stop such abuses.

And the one person he blamed for it all, was Prince Damianos.

\--

Damen had always wanted to be king.

He had watched his father, had been taken to every meeting since his birth first in his mother's arms, then on his father's knee, and then sitting beside his father as a crown prince should. He saw the power his father had, how he could reroute grain shipments to offset famine, build schools and hospitals, create alliances that brought in foreign goods, lead armies and command respect from everyone around him. As soon as he learned what a king was he wanted to be one, and he wanted his brother as his right hand man and Jokaste as his queen.

Fate, however, gave him a different path.

When he was 16 his older but illegitimate brother lead a coup, alongside Damen's betrothed Jokaste. War broke out across the kingdom and Damen had been forced to ride out alongside his father against his own brother. The battle was a short but brutal one and Damen had been the one forced to land the killing blow on Kastor. Even to the end, with swords in their hands facing each other on the muddy blood soaked ground, he had begged his brother to surrender and come home.

He had not even meant to kill Kastor, he had just wanted to wound him into surrender, force him to be taken back to the palace by the physicians and hear reason. But Kastor had charged and Damen's sword had come up to block the strike, his sword hitting Kastor by the throat and ending him there at Damen's feet.

Many had died, too many, and all because a prince could not stand the thought of not being king. Whether that prince was Kastor or himself, Damen wasn't sure. Everyone told him he'd done what he had to do, that war was unavoidable and he had ended things before more innocents had to die, but Damen could only ever think of a battle field littered with the bodies of his people, all fighting for someone they had never met.

It was then that Damen understood it was not enough to rule, he had to rule _well._

When the battle was over his father agreed to start giving Damen power to ease the people into seeing him not just as a prince but as their future king, so the next time a challenger came the people would not just be choosing between two unknowns, but one unknown and the crown prince who softened taxes and gave them another feast day off for celebrating.

The first piece of power Damen was given was the choice of what was to be done with Jokaste. He knew many people expected execution for her betrayal, for siding with his brother in the coup. But Damen did not want his first act to be one of violence, or vengeance, or anger. So he had Jokaste exiled, specifically to their friends in Vask. People had questioned the decision at first, asking if it was wise to send a beautiful and cunning woman to a matriarchal society. But Damen knew their ruler, knew their culture. They valued truth above all else, and could smell bullshit from a mile away. As Jokaste had spent her life learning the art of weaving lies, her skills would be useless there. If she wanted power, wanted influence, she would have to start from scratch and work her way up from nothing as she learned how to tell the truth for once.

Every year after, when their ambassador came back from his annual visit, Damen would ask how Jokaste was fairing in her new kingdom. Every year, when asked by the ambassador how she was, Jokaste gave the same answer.

"Tell your prince I demand to be returned at once."

The first two years she said it with anger, spitting it at the ambassador and needing to be lead away by the women who were tasked with guarding her. But as time went on it became simply a habit. This last year, when Damen was 22 and ruling as an equal beside his father, he was told Jokaste said it while sitting beside the woman she had taken for a wife and helping to prepare the great evening meal with the others, a child strapped to her back. Whether it was hers the ambassador didn't know, as every woman of the village took care of every child as if it were there own, and lines of blood were overshadowed by those of affection. Damen had rested easy after this, secure in the decision he had made. Jokaste may have flourished in their kingdom but it wasn't the kind of flourishing she needed, or deserved. To rule behind the curtain through lies was no life for anyone, and knowing she was living a simple life surrounded by those who cared for her for who she was rather than the mask she wore made it easier to turn the last of his thoughts from her, knowing she would be fine.

This, of course, meant his thoughts could turn to the direction his father had been trying to turn them since the coup. Who he would take as his next fiance.

"You cannot stay unmarried for much longer, Damianos. Soon you will be king and you will need someone by your side. Someone who can give you an heir, or arrange for one. Someone who can help you rule, who can bring an alliance." He took Damen's hand, something he had not done in many years. "Someone you can lie beside at night and share your heart with. You will carry the heaviest burden a man can carry, and you cannot carry it alone."

"I know, Father."

"Now that we are sure Jokaste is happy, and not returning, will you allow your mother to begin arranging a ball? You would not need to pick anyone that night, but if you could be introduced to our allies, their children, or perhaps someone within our kingdom. Someone who could know your people and tell you what they need. Will you consider it?"

Damen looked at his father. They were standing in the royal stables, Damen readying himself to go for a ride. He always needed to when news of Jokaste came to them.

"Tell her she can begin arrangements. I wish to move forward as everyone else does. I'm ready to try again."

His father gave him a smile and a nod before leaving him to his ride. Swinging onto his horse, he left to race through the woods and let the trees and wind and sky take his troubles from him.

\--

That day, Laurent's uncle was out meeting with (bribing) a newly appointed local judge and he could not stay inside another minute. Telling the servants the floor was clean as it was every going to be and giving them the afternoon off, he saddled his horse and took to the woods. He hadn't been in them in so long and his heart had ached for them, ached for the freedom, for the sense that if he wanted he could disappear in them and never return. But of course that's what his uncle would want, for his nephew to leave his duties completely and give him no choice but to take the title permanently. Laurent would not leave the people who depended on him like that. But still, it was nice to ride and dream as if he might.

He came to a stop in a clearing, allowing his horse to take its breath, when he heard hoof beats headed in his direction. Was it his uncle? Certainly his disappearance for one afternoon couldn't warrant his uncle coming after him personally, and none of the servants would tell his secret. But then who? These woods belonged to his family and he rarely saw anyone else in them.

Just then, a young man entered the clearing. A few years older than Laurent and striking atop his huge mount, which had to be big as its rider was truly a mountain of a man. The rider seemed as surprised as Laurent to find someone else.

"Who are you?" Laurent took up his reins, ready to run back to the manner if this man was looking to bring danger to his lands. But the man, for all his muscle, did not seem intent on doing any damage. By looking at him, Laurent guessed he was escaping as well.

"Apologies, I'm-" The man faltered a moment, considering, before relaxing a bit in his seat. "My name is Damen, I was only looking to explore a new area of woods I had not yet visited. Please excuse my intrusion."

Laurent let his horse wander closer, their steeds circling one another. "Do you come from the palace?"

The man's eyes widened. "The palace?"

Laurent nodded. "You speak very formally, no one around here speaks like that unless they have to worry about seeing a prince coming around the corner at any moment."

Damen gave him a smile at that and Laurent felt his heart skip. He had not met anyone truly new in many years, much less someone as handsome as this man.

"I do, I confess. I'm learning to take over for my father, although I must say I'm not sure how well I'm doing these days. The closer the time comes the more I don't think I'm ready."

Laurent could certainly sympathize with that. "I understand, I am meant to take after mine but I feel like that day is never going to come." He looked at the man, a thought coming to his head. "Have you ever met prince Damianos?"

The man picked at something in his horse's mane, not meeting Laurent's eye. "A few times, in passing. I knew his brother."

Laurent snorted, making the man look up. "Those two, they have no idea the damage they cause to us poor common folk. Starting a war over which gets to wear the fancy crown and getting thousands killed over it." Now he was the one looking away, not wanting to let the emotion show any more than it had. He'd tried to get over the dual deaths of his brother and father but so easily the pain came back as if he was that boy watching his uncle's carriage come into view.

"I'm sorry," Damen said, his own voice sounding thick. "I understand how painful it is. I... I fought in the battle as well, as did my own brother who did not survive." He swallowed hard. "I like to believe that under Damianos, such things will not happen again. I like to think we will see a time of peace."

"Until, of course, some lord from some foreign land insults the palace's rugs, and then we shall be at war again and more people I know will die, all because we are at the whims of a prince's vanity." Laurent did not know if that was too far, if he should be more careful saying such things in front of someone who worked with the royal family. But Damen seemed to be thinking deeply when he looked back up at him.

"Well then, perhaps I shall have to tell the prince that the people will no longer abide by the warlike ways of the past, and if he wants the people to love him he will have to listen." He grinned at Laurent then and his heart did another flip. "Or maybe you should tell him that."

"Me?" How could he ever get an audience with the prince?

"Yes, I hear they're going to be putting on a ball in a few weeks, anyone is invited to come and meet the royal family. You could give the prince a piece of your mind there."

Laurent snorted but couldn't help smiling at the thought. "My uncle would kill me if I did."

"Oh I would be there to protect you, don't worry." He winked and Laurent felt a strange warmth in his stomach. Had anyone offered to protect him since his father and Auguste died? Had anyone cared? Had anyone had the power to stand between him and his uncle?

The man from the palace squinted at the sky. "I must be getting back, I have work to do. But can I meet you here again, some time?"

Laurent knew he probably shouldn't agree, couldn't guarantee anything, but he found himself smiling and saying yes he would like that.

And, surprisingly, over the next few weeks they managed to sneak away and see each other a number of times. Laurent would take extra time after his visits with the villagers, Damen excusing himself to his father's annoyance. They spent hours together, speaking of everything but their lives. It seemed neither had much interest in talking about what happened in their days so instead they talked of their thoughts, interests, dreams, and fears. When the day of the ball was a week away, Damen asked Laurent to promise to come and he found himself agreeing, shocking as it was.

He spent all that week putting the outfit together. He took apart every nice looking piece of clothing he had left, the mistress of the cloth found every good piece she could find, and together they put together something that, he had to admit, did not look half bad. It was not befitting a lord's son but it was not unfitting for a royal ball. Besides, he was not going for the prince, he was going for his handsome apprentice friend. And, possibly, to tell off the prince, if the opportunity presented itself.

At 8 he descended the stairs, straightening his sleeve cuff, when his uncle saw him.

"What are you doing?"

Laurent raised a cool eyebrow, not letting the man fluster him. "Leaving for the ball. It did say open to the public, did it not? I may be disinherited but I am still a citizen. Or have you found a way around that too?"

His uncle frowned, stalking forward. A few of the elders he was closest to were watching, waiting.

His uncle felt along Laurent's sleeve. "I cannot bring you looking like this, you would shame the family. Why did you not request an outfit for the ball weeks ago?"

Laurent let that one go, knowing it was for the benefit of the elders. "Then I will go on my own, no one will know I'm your dishonorable nephew."

A muscle twitched in his uncle's jaw. Carefully, out of the view of the elders, he gave a sharp pull on the sleeve cuff, ripping it. Laurent jerked backwards and it came off completely, tearing open the seam of his sleeve along with it. His uncle shook his head.

"You're falling apart at the seams, they won't let you in looking like that, not even if they think you're a peasant. Face it, Laurent. You have ignored society for years, you are not fit to enter it again at a royal ball, I must forbid it." He shook his head sadly then left, his friends giving him conciliatory pats on the back for the hardship he must endure.

Laurent stared after them, watching the carriage wind its way towards the palace. Fury and pain seared through him and he went out the back door to the small garden, sitting on the cracked marble steps and allowing himself to cry for the first time in six years.

After a moment, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Looking up he saw the mistress if the cloth, and Nicaise the kitchen boy, and Paschal the physician, and Jord the head guard, and all the other servants of the household. Paschal cleared his throat.

"Come with me, young master."

They lead him inside, to his father's old study that his uncle never used because he thought it was too small. Inside, things were much the same as his father left them, though it was now cluttered with his brother's things that his uncle had not stolen for himself. Paschal maneuvered deftly through the piles to retrieve a box that was surprisingly free from dust.

"We've been keeping this, resizing it over the years to fit you. For when you take your birthright and become master of the household. But I think you should have it tonight instead." He opened the box and inside was a gorgeous outfit designed for a nobleman. Deep blue and gold, with his family's starburst emblem. On top were two small golden cuffs he could wear around his wrists. He picked up one and put it on, the cuff fitting to his trim wrist like a second skin. He looked at the servants, the family, around him.

"If my uncle sees me wearing this, you'll all be in danger."

Paschal shrugged. "If we must take a risk for your future as well as our own, we will. Tonight, you will be the lord you were born to be."

Once Laurent was dressed, caressing the soft fabric that hung to his skin, the laces covering him everywhere but to the wrists where the cuffs gleamed proudly. He knew they had been passed through his family, would have gone to Auguste. For once he felt connected not just to his father and brother, but to everyone who came before him. To the generations who wore these while facing their own hardships. No matter what happened after tonight, they were with him.

As he went to get his horse he found his father's old carriage waiting for him outside. Sitting in the driver's seat was Paschal with Jord beside him in his best guard uniform, Nicaise beside the wheels dressed in an old footman's uniform. Laurent's eyes widened.

"I can just ride my horse..."

"And get covered in dirt after all the effort it took to make your outfit?" Nicaise rolled his eyes and opened the carriage door. As he was stepping in, the mistress of the cloth took his arm, her eyes shining with tears.

"You look just like your brother, and your father before him." She pulled him into a tight hug. "Remember, your uncle will leave at midnight. You must be back before him." Laurent nodded, squeezing her back.

"That's plenty of time." He waved to the others and seated himself in his father's carriage. Then, the whip cracked and off they went to the ball.

\--

Damen adjusted his coat as he stood in front of the mirror in his rooms. He thought Laurent really had begun to like him, that they were getting close. But what would his reaction be to realizing he was the prince all along, that he had kept this secret from him? Would he walk away, never speak to Damen again? The thought made his stomach turn. He couldn't stand the thought of Laurent wanting nothing to do with him. It had been so long since he had a friend, a confidant, perhaps something more, that didn't first see him as the prince and then as himself. He wanted it desperately.

His father came up behind him, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

"Whoever they are, they'll find you the handsomest man in the kingdom."

Damen turned to gape. His father knew? But Theomedes just grinned.

"You used to cut lessons and make excuses just like this to meet Jokaste, you think I wouldn't notice again?" He gave Damen's shoulder a final squeeze. "Come, your evening awaits."

Descending the stairs to the royal musicians behind his mother and father, he tried to not be too obviously looking around the room for Laurent. He hadn't realized just how many people would be there, how difficult it might be to find each other. And if Laurent thought he was a regular palace worker he may never find him...

The night wore on, an hour passing slowly as he danced with everyone who asked, trying to stay engaged in conversation while looking for Laurent. Then, the great doors opened and a blonde head came into his line of vision as the dance mercifully ended. They locked gazes and he saw recognition flicker through Laurent's beautiful blue eyes, the same color as the intricate coat he was wearing. Damen waited for his reaction, waited for the anger, but instead saw smug amusement. He had to know what Laurent was thinking. Breaking with protocol he made his way through the crowd, the people parting for him. Ascending the stairs he held out a questioning hand. A prince never asked someone else to dance unless he was asking for more than a dance.

"May I?"

Laurent slowly, as if to prolong Damen's agony, put his hand in Damen's.

"You may."

And so back down the stairs they went, the band striking up a waltz as Damen led Laurent.

"You're the prince."

"You're a lord."

"That's a pitiful card to play, I never lied about being a lord."

Damen gave a sheepish grin. "I am sorry. I just... Liked the idea of being known for once, just as I am. I may be the prince but I am other things, too."

Laurent gave him a smile that he swore melted everything inside him. "You are. You are kind, a good wrestler, a wonderful swordsman, a terrible fisherman, and a dear friend."

"A friend?" He gave Laurent his most roguish smile which got a blush as he'd hoped. "I had hoped for perhaps more."

"Did you?" Laurent raised his eyebrows as if in bemusement. "I can't imagine what you were imagining."

And so they passed the evening, never stopping to let the other dance with anyone else. He could feel the eyes of those assembled, could hear the whispers. Marrying a lord would be a good match, it would assure that in even in times of great struggle he'd have the support of his husband's lands. And of course it would be easier to adopt a child if it was from a local region loyal to the newest member of the royal family.

Sitting outside, away from the throngs and taking a breath of cool air, Damen couldn't take his eyes from Laurent. He knew before now that he had become infatuated with the strange boy from the woods but now he knew he wanted more. He wanted this man, this brilliant man, this sensitive man, this kind and gentle and amazing man by his side.

Laurent was telling him something, a story from his childhood about his brother dressing as an old man and asking the villagers their opinions of the lord's family while Damen played with the cuff Laurent had handed him when he'd asked about it, when the great clock began chiming for midnight. Had it gotten so late? Certainly he hadn't noticed the time moving. Quickly taking back the cuff and trying to refasten it, Laurent spoke hastily.

"I must be going."

"Going? But-" But Laurent was already running down the back stairs towards the carriages. An older carriage was hurrying towards them.

"Wait!" Damen called, trying to keep up without falling down the stairs. "Can I meet you again? In the woods?"

"No! We can't see each other again." And Laurent was jumping into his carriage, the guard, footman, and horse master all looking as agitated as he was. He ran alongside the carriage as it began leaving.

"Laurent, I don't understand!"

He tried reaching for Laurent's hand but he pulled it in at the last second, the unfastened cuff coming off in Damen's hand as the carriage picked up speed and disappeared into the night.

A moment later a group of guards were by his side, Nikandros at the helm.

"What's happened, exalted? Are you alright?"

Damen nodded idly, looking down at the cuff in his hand.

"Should we go after them, exalted? Bring them back?"

He shook his head. Laurent looked afraid, he would not do anything to make that fear worse. But...

"Tomorrow morning, I want it declared. That I mean to marry the man who owns this gold cuff, if he so consents."

"Who is he?"

Damen shook his head. "He never gave me his last name, I only know him by his face and this."

"Well, we shall track him down. Not many a man will fit that cuff, I'd wager. We'll find you the man it fits, exalted."

Damen nodded, staring down the empty road. He would see Laurent one more time, even if it was just to make a proper goodbye.

\--

Laurent tried to undress in the carriage, Nicaise helping as much as possible in the cramped space. He could hear Nicaise muttering, "Shit shit shit shit..."

"Do you think we can make it?"

Jord called from the driving seat. "We left at the same time as your uncle but we're going faster than him, we've got a chance!"

Laurent nodded, cursing the hundreds of laces on the beautiful shirt and pants as he tried to wiggle out of them. Better to be caught in his underclothes than this finery.

He'd hated to leave Damen like that, hated the hurt and confusion on his face. If he could have explained he would have, but he couldn't bring himself to. Yes I'm a lord but I have no lands, no money, no power. I am at the mercy of my uncle who keeps me in rags and I will most likely never have anything to offer a prince? No, it was better if things ended here. They had gone too far already. A disgraced lord could marry a palace apprentice but not a prince. He should have known better than to hope.

Jord banged on the roof of the carriage. "We're going to slow down so you can jump out, we can't risk your uncle seeing this carriage anywhere but where he expects it.

Laurent nodded and looked to Nicaise who nodded too, holding Laurent's fine clothes in a bundle. Paschal slowed the carriage and they both jumped out, tumbling over in the dirt before running to the house, the sound of his uncles carriage in the dark not far behind. Nicaise ran with the clothes to the servants quarters while Laurent flew up the stairs, not bothering to breathe until the door to the tower was closed behind him. He sank to the floor, hearing the drunken laughter of his uncle and the elders. No doubt they spent their night with the other lords, comparing land sizes and income while drinking heavily. Hopefully none of them paid too much attention to the prince and his dancing partners.

A bubble of hysterical laughter burst up and Laurent, exhausted and more awake than he'd ever been, gave in and laughed on the floor in his underwear, one gold cuff still snug to his wrist.

The next morning, still exhausted and exhilarated, Laurent helped Nicaise make breakfast as the elders had stayed over and there would need to be five meals that morning.

Laurent made sure his sleeve was pulled down, hiding the impressions the cuffs made on his wrists. He and Nicaise talked of the weather and the chickens and anything that wasn't last night although he knew everyone wanted to hear what had happened.

As he was brewing tea and the men talked, one elder turned to the others.

"Did you hear the prince is sending messengers all over this side of the kingdom? They are looking for the young nobleman he wishes to marry. Apparently the young fool ran off before the prince could ask."

Laurent kept his hand steady, his face impassive, but his heart was beating terribly in his chest. Was he happy? Terrified? Excited? Hopeful? Fearful? He had no idea what he was or if he was everything at once. His uncle shook his head, annoyed.

"Hopefully he's not anyone too close, the last thing we need is the king taking too close an eye on our lands." The other men laughed in agreement and Laurent put the kettle in front of them.

"I'm going to help Nicaise clean the kitchen." His uncle flicked a hand at him in dismissal, not looking at him.

As he entered the kitchen he was cornered by the kitchen servants, all whispering fervently.

"How did it go?"

"Did you dance with the prince?"

"They're saying he's looking for someone, is it you?"

Laurent held up a hand to shush them but showed his grin, which they all took for a yes and began jumping in excitement.

"Does this mean you're going to marry the prince?"

Laurent shook his head, picking up a broom. "It would never work. For now, it's just... A wonderful dream, like all the others."

Throughout the coming days the kings men moved about the kingdom, trying the cuff on the children of all the lords, even putting it on women in case one had disguised herself. Rumors circulated, saying the cuff was the size of a child's wrist, other's saying it changed size so it could only fit its true master. Laurent laughed whenever a servant told him the newest gossip. At night he would look at the cuff's mate, tracing the faded starburst.

Three days after the ball he was cleaning his uncles dishes when his uncle said idly, "The kings guards will be coming by today, I told Jord to have them skip our house as I have no children for them to check."

Laurent's hand stilled. "Well, they would need to check me, wouldn't they? For the law's sake?"

His uncle shook his head. "I'll tell them there's no need, we don't want to be wasting the time and resources of the crown." He looked up and met Laurent's gaze with his own cold one. "Do we?"

Laurent went back to cleaning as if this conversation bored him. "I'm just saying, don't be surprised if it's their orders to look anyway." He could feel his uncles eyes on him as he washed the dishes.

"Yes, they may. So I think I will put you up in your rooms, so they aren't kept any longer than they need to be. It would be a shame for the cuff to fit on accident and everyone to get terribly confused, wouldn't it?"

Laurent turned back and met his uncle's eyes. He saw a controlled fury in them and for once did not look away. "A shame for you, perhaps. Would not want anyone looking too closely into you, would you?"

Before Laurent could react his uncle was out of his chair and grabbing Laurent by the arm, hauling him up the stairs and throwing him in his rooms, the door closing and bolting behind him before he could get through again.

He ached where he'd been grabbed, where he hit the floor. What had he hoped? That Damen would rescue him? Would come and save him, save them all? People didn't get rescued, not in real life. The men would come and they would go and Laurent would be set free again, his inheritance no doubt taken further from reach than before. But he would continue to fight, as he always did, never giving up or giving in.

He sat by the window that overlooked the courtyard and waited. After an hour a group of thirty or so liveried riders stopped outside the manner. Laurent opened his window so he could hear.

"Gentlemen," his uncle called, spreading his arms in welcome. The village elders were there, no doubt to give credence to his assertion that they had no reason to search the house. "I do wish to save you the trouble of going any further, I am unmarried with no children of my own, there is no one here for you to search."

The head of the guard turned to another officer and they began to speak amongst themselves. He made to turn his horse when a peasant appeared, blocking the road. More followed, the peasants Laurent had helped and befriended over the years creating a wall in front of the road the men could not pass. His uncle laughed with discomfort.

"Move along for the king's men, now."

"There's a boy inside. The true lord's heir," one called. He'd helped her pay for her daughter's marriage from money he'd stolen from his uncle.

The head guard turned back to his uncle. "The true lord?"

Another stepped forward. "This man has stolen our lord's inheritance, he should be given every right as any other lord."

"They don't know what they're saying, they're confused, uneducated-"

The guard cut him off. "Is someone else inside?"

"No, of course not-"

"There is!" There was Nicaise's voice. "He's been locked in the tower so you can't see him." He pointed to the tower and then men looked up. Laurent leaned out the window as best he could.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Even from his height he could see his uncle's face reddening. The guards dismounted and pushed past him. Laurent turned to face the door but not before he saw the elders moving away from his uncle.

Pounding steps came up the stairs and then the door was broken in, a large guard standing in the doorway. Laurent lifted his hand, the matching cuff on his wrist.

"I believe you were looking for me?"

His uncle, the elders, the servants, the head guard, and Laurent all sat in the drawing room while the prince was sent word and told to come immediately. His uncle never stopped talking, never stopped simpering to the guard about the misunderstanding, that this was a misbehaving servant boy and no noble. The guard never looked at him and when he turned to the elders for confirmation they remained silent. They were the elders for a reason, they knew when to jump from a sinking ship.

Finally, finally, the door was opened and in walked prince Damianos, his eyes bright with excitement. They roamed the room a moment before stopping on Laurent. They took in his cuffs, his tattered clothes, the dirt on his skin. And he smiled that heart melting smile.

"You are not an easy man to find."

Laurent stood and walked over to Damianos, the eyes of everyone on him, including the rest of the guards who were all curious to see what they man they had been searching for was like.

"My name is Laurent, my father was the lord of these lands and my brother the heir. They were both killed in the rebellion defending our kingdom. My uncle has signed away my inheritance to himself. I have nothing to give you, nothing to offer but myself."

Damen took Laurent's hands in his own, bringing them to his mouth to kiss them. "I think you will find I have enough land of my own for the both of us." And with that he brought Laurent in for a wonderful, perfect kiss like Laurent had hoped he would get since the day they'd met.

The head guard cleared his throat.

"Exalted, if I may. I would ask how the inheritance could be signed away when I have heard of no royal courts declaring such a thing recently."

Laurent turned to him. He'd never considered that the means with which his uncle took his inheritance, while morally reprehensible, had not been legal.

"He had these men seated here sign it over, claiming they all found me unfit to rule my lands."

Damen put an arm around his shoulders. "Did they? Quite a feat considering such proceedings take a royal decree and a lengthy court proceeding to prove." He gestured with his hand and cuffs, these time of iron, were put on his equally parts raging and begging uncle and the furious elders.

"He's not fit! He knows nothing of ruling! You are giving your kingdom to ruin!"

Damen looked outside to the hundreds of peasants and servants.

"Anyone who can inspire such love and loyalty seems quite fit to rule to me. Take them to the palace to be tried."

Laurent turned his back on his uncle and the elders, seeing the man's furious face for the last time. He had no interest in looking back any longer. He wanted, for once, to look forward. And forward was in the eyes of the future king, the man he loved.

Damen.

\--

Epilogue

Laurent married his prince on a bright spring day, wearing the clothes made for him by those he had loved best his many years in captivity. The second cuff was resized and given to the newly crowned king to wear.

His uncle and the town elders had been jailed and were awaiting trial, which Damen was in no hurry to give them.

Laurent still personally looked after those in his family lands, although now all the people of the kingdom were his people. So there would always be someone to help those he had looked after for years he gave the lordship to the mistress of the cloth and her descendants. He visited often, though she always told him it was not often enough while fussing over him and his husband, who enjoyed the fussing.

After a time when they knew they needed an heir they asked their new Vaskian Ambassador, Jokaste, for assistance. In response she sent back a small child and a note saying he had been an undersized twin the mother could not care for. She, of course, ended her note with demands to be freed from her exile. Damen had remarked if he did she would refuse to leave.

Damen gave the people the peace they'd always wanted, and Laurent brought the common touch and gave light to the people's worries. And he always wore a single patch of mismatched cloth on his clothes to remind them that he had once been a Patchwork Prince and held no shame in it.


End file.
